


half the man I thought I would be

by FullmetalChords



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Character Study, Identity Issues, M/M, Porn in Chapter 2, Pre-Slash, Secrets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:48:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25494139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FullmetalChords/pseuds/FullmetalChords
Summary: Tell me your secrets, Claude says in the quiet between them. The second, unheard, half of his request is always,and I will tell you mine.-An Azure Moon character study of Claude, before and during the war.Happy birthday, Claude!
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 7
Kudos: 97





	half the man I thought I would be

**Author's Note:**

> Planning on ch2 to come out pretty soon (which will have the porn), but otherwise let's just count this as a Claude's bday/FE3H anniversary piece from me for now!

"Tell me a secret about yourself."

"Hah… why would such a thing interest you?"

Claude chuckles. "Humor me, Your Princeliness."

It is late, well past the school’s curfew. They have been tucked in a dark corner of the library for the past several hours, a candle burning at Claude’s side as he pores over pages of scribbled notes from Professor Byleth’s lectures. Goddess, they’re a mess. Why can’t the professor ever seem to structure these lectures in a way that makes sense? If he didn’t have Dimitri here helping him make sense of his notes, better explaining the theories behind dueling and swordplay, Claude would have no chance of being ready for tomorrow morning’s myrmidon exam. 

They find themselves here often. Claude spends every moment he can in the library, finding knowledge and secrets in books. (An old habit he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to break.) On the rare occasions he’s asked Dimitri what brings someone like him to the library — someone Claude had always thought to be more at home on the battlefield than in a classroom — he only gets vague responses about “research” the prince is doing.

Perhaps it’s none of his business. His curiosity is piqued anyway, but only enough to know that this serious young man, so set in his duties, is something of a kindred spirit to himself. 

And that’s enough for them to find one another during their respective late nights, slowly becoming… allies? Friends? Becoming something, at any rate. 

“Come on,” Claude wheedles again. “Something no one else knows.”

“Very well, I suppose.” Dimitri leans back, making himself more comfortable against the bookshelf. “…I think the lord uniform is ugly.”

Claude lets out a wholly undignified snort at the unexpectedness of it. “What?”

“It’s silly.” Dimitri is actually pouting. “What is the purpose of having us wear a cravat? And the cape has such… such silly fringe at the edge of it. The collar is too high, there’s an impractical gap between the sleeve and the edge of the gauntlet— oh, by the goddess, Claude. Are you laughing at me?”

“No!” Claude’s protest is not made convincing by the fact that he is chuckling as he says it. “Okay, I am, a little. Sorry. I’ve just never seen you get so worked up over something that inconsequential.”

“Perhaps,” Dimitri says with an uncertain frown. “But that does not excuse the way the overcoat restricts one’s movement in battle.” Still, he seems relaxed as they talk, perhaps more than Claude has ever seen him. “I do wish the professor would let me wear something more practical during our skirmishes. I cannot help but feel a fool when they make me wear that monstrosity.”

“At least you pull it off,” Claude murmurs. “I don’t know why Hanneman keeps putting me in mustard yellow; it makes me look sickly. But you, in that rich shade of blue…” What matches his eyes, making him look so regal and tall and perfect…

He cuts off, finding Dimitri staring at him. “What?” Claude asks, flushing. He’s suddenly unsure, with the late hour, how much he ended up saying aloud. 

“I…” Dimitri shakes his head. “No. It is nothing.” He dips his head. “…You’re very kind. Thank you.”

In the dim light of the library, Claude can be forgiven for missing the flush that comes over the prince’s own cheeks. 

—

For better or for worse, Claude has always had a curious instinct he’s never been able to quell. Too nosy for his own good, always wanting to know more about this strange new land he finds himself in. 

And no one piques his curiosity quite like the crown prince of Faerghus. 

It’s… strange. From the outside, Dimitri appears poised, refined, proper… even a little boring, some might say. But there’s a shadow behind that facade, something deep and dark and sad in those eyes of his when Dimitri thinks no one is looking. Claude had noticed it right away, an enigma that drew him closer to Dimitri, simply wanting to understand him better. 

Dimitri is a puzzle that he might be able to crack, if he just spends a little more time getting to know him. And so he does, in the training hall and the dining hall, the library and the cathedral. More and more often, Claude starts drifting to Dimitri when he does not care to spend his free time by himself. 

But Dimitri (much like Claude) is not simply one to give himself away. And so when simply spending time with Dimitri is not enough to satisfy Claude’s insatiable craving for understanding, he resorts to asking Dimitri for secrets. 

He knows it’s a risk. Dimitri could just as easily turn around and demand the same of Claude, demand information about himself that Claude is not ready to give. What’s more, when he takes a moment to think about it, he doesn’t fully understand why he cares so much. Why untangle the knotted web that is Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd? Why not be content to accept this classmate, a nominal rival of his, as being exactly who he appears to be?

…It is because Claude knows, too well, that no one is exactly who they appear to be at first glance. It is out of self-preservation, perhaps, to know what thorns Dimitri may possess. What danger there is in getting to know him. 

And so he keeps asking Dimitri to share secrets about himself. About his likes, his dislikes, his ambitions and his past. 

And, somehow, incredibly, Dimitri continues to oblige him. 

—

“I have no sense of taste.” 

This latest secret comes to him when he and Dimitri have tea together under the pergola on the monastery lawn, one fine sunny afternoon at the start of autumn. Claude raises an eyebrow as he snags another tea biscuit. 

“Clearly,” he says lightly. “You keep choosing to spend your free time with me, after all.” He chuckles at the end, making clear it’s a joke at his own expense.

But Dimitri is having none of it. “Why would you say such a thing about yourself?” he demands, face absolutely serious. 

Claude blinks, not having expected such a strong reaction. “Um…”

“You are normally so clever, Claude.” Dimitri rubs at his forehead, looking agitated. “Are you so blind to your own charms that you would pretend they do not exist?”

And that… There’s too much to unpack in that statement for Claude to handle. Dimitri telling him he has “charms,” which Claude knows too well to be an act. Dimitri apparently finding whatever act he is putting on to be appealing. Dimitri pinpointing, with razor sharp accuracy, how adept Claude is at concealing himself, to the point where he may well be lying to himself, half the time.

As if that isn’t the absolute truth. 

Claude reaches for his teacup, gulping down lukewarm chamomile tea, suddenly wanting nothing more than to get away.

“Claude.” Dimitri is looking at him again, more gently, as he apparently tries to steer their conversation back to where it once was. “As I wished to tell you… I lost my ability to enjoy the things I eat long ago. I can enjoy the floral perfume of our tea, but not its flavor. I can tell that the biscuits here are crumbly, but not that they are sweet.” He leans back in his chair, looking into his lap. His armored hands somehow able to hold the fragile porcelain teacup with ease. “Few people know this about me,” he says. “It is not something I tend to share with others. Not even most members of my House are aware of my… struggles.”

Claude absorbs this information, this latest secret, as his restless jackrabbit heart continues pounding in his chest. “…But I know,” he finally says, comprehension slowly dawning.

“You do.” Dimitri bows his head, and there’s no mistaking the color on his cheeks. “You are very good at… persuading me to be more open. I am very grateful for it.”

Claude holds his breath then. Wondering if Dimitri will ask for the same of Claude. To be open, to be… honest. About everything. All the things he’s ever kept hidden since coming to Fodlan. 

He wonders if he is ready to answer Dimitri’s questions. 

If he is ready, at the very least, to give him a name. 

But Dimitri does not. Keeps drinking his tea, moves their conversation into safer waters, and never asks Claude for a secret of his own. Never asks to be Claude’s secret keeper, the way Claude is slowly doing for him.

And Claude is…

…terrified.

—

Time marches on, autumn’s colors slowly wash out to the stillness of winter, and Dimitri keeps sharing his secrets with Claude.

Half the time, it seems Claude does not even have to ask anymore. They will simply be together, sparring or studying or dining, and Dimitri will share something of himself with Claude, completely unprompted. 

_Felix’s older brother was my first real crush. I never told him how he made me feel because it was not… proper, for a prince to be so attached to one of his knights._

_I often wear gauntlets or gloves because my hands were… damaged, in the fires of Duscur. I have some trouble gripping a sword properly without them._

_You were astute enough to notice some tension between Edelgard and myself. My feelings for her are not romantic, but rather more… complicated._

And even then, nothing. Claude’s demands for secrets are not volleyed back at him, Dimitri apparently content to give his own without asking for any in return. 

It is so… frustrating.

Any good relationship should be… an exchange. Claude has learned that he cannot expect to be given anything for free, knows that there is always a price attached to whatever he receives. It does not have to be so dramatic, or so weighty: an extra ration of meat to Raphael as thanks for helping him carry back the shopping, or maintaining Petra’s equipment as thanks for teaching Claude how to climb a tree. A trade. Entire societies are built on social contracts like this, on people owing something to one another. Goods, or help, or power… Or secrets. 

Claude knows, perhaps better than anyone at the monastery, that information is power. And the amount of information that Dimitri is simply handing him for free…

He is not comfortable, holding so much power over Dimitri. Having their relationship be so unequal. He finds himself living in fear of the day Dimitri might come and collect on his debt, finally restoring the equilibrium in their relationship. Cannot bear that he is holding so many of his own secrets this close to the light without Dimitri demanding to know even one of them.

 _Tell me your secrets_ , Claude says in the quiet between them. The second, unheard, half of his request is always, _and I will tell you mine_. 

But Dimitri does not ask him. Does not ask Claude, in fact, for anything. Only gives, and gives, sharing his secrets, his time, his mind, his heart with Claude, with the sort of assuredness that Claude can only puzzle over later, in secret. 

What on earth could Dimitri possibly want? The debt between them is… immeasurable, at this point. What does Dimitri want in exchange for everything he has given Claude? What could Claude possibly have that could measure up to what he’s already received?

He is a coward, Claude knows. But giving Dimitri the truth of his birth, his childhood, his very name no longer feels sufficient. Claude will always be repaying his debts to Dimitri, at this point, making constant deposits into a well he can never fill.

But he will not start, until Dimitri asks.

—

It is only in the quietest part of the night, when he is alone and safe in his own bed, that Claude reflects on why he finds it so difficult to just tell people these things about himself. Why he waits for Dimitri to ask about who he is, when he is nearly ready to tell him.

Why he has told no one that his name, for the first fifteen years of his life, was Khalid. Not Claude.

Khalid...

It's hard for Claude to look at the boy he used to be, the boy he was born as, with much kindness. After all, when he was Khalid, he hadn't received much kindness to begin with. Hated by his half-brothers, persecuted by assassins from the age of five. Treated harshly by his own parents, told to pick himself up and stop crying whenever he was jeered at, or hit, falling on scabbed knees into the dirt. 

He'd left Khalid’s whole life behind when he was fifteen. Running away from his father’s house in the middle of the night, only leaving a simple note for his mother to explain where he had gone. 

No one had come after him. 

It's a little too easy for Claude to think of that little boy, dirt and blood on his cheek, as a different person entirely. To remember, with no small amount of scorn, how emotional he used to be. Letting each little hurt land on his soul and leave a fresh scar. Sneaking out of his room every night to look up at the stars and dream of a better life for himself. 

Khalid had been so helpless to make his own way in the world. To carve out a space for himself, the way Claude has done. Khalid had devoured every book he could get his hands on, learning to be clever and quick - and it still had done nothing to help himself.

Here, in Fodlan, Claude had been just as quick to discard Khalid al-Jamil. Burying all his emotionality, his pain, his loneliness, to become Claude von Riegan. In just two years, he'd taken all of Khalid's quick comebacks and made them into armor for himself. All of Khalid's knowledge and cleverness to gain understanding of his new homeland. But that... that was all. Everything else Khalid had experienced can remain tucked away in the past, for all Claude cares. Never touching his present.

That helpless little boy he once was can never be known to anyone else. Not if Claude wants to avoid turning into him again. 

Claude... Claude is who Khalid had always wanted to be. In just two years, he's grown into someone skillful, confident. Mistrusted by some, maybe... but mistrust doesn't make him bat an eye anymore. Coming to Fodlan, renaming himself after one of his mother's ancestors, was the kind of makeover that Khalid had always wanted when he was young. A fresh start where he doesn't have to make excuses for his heritage, doesn't have to dodge daggers and poison in the night… even if he always sleeps with both close by. 

Claude can be everything Khalid could not. Claude can be bold, Claude can be respected. Claude can have friends. Claude can lead. Claude can have his dreams come true.

And Khalid… Khalid will remain in the shadows, where he was left behind. He’d decided it would be so, years ago. He’s at peace with the decision he made. He knows the people at Garreg Mach can see that he’s different from the rest of them, the color of his skin marking him as an outsider… But as long as Claude keeps the whole truth to himself, they can think what they want. 

So why, then, does he feel so compelled to let Dimitri know of the boy he used to be? Powerless, picked on, a stranger no matter where he went? What good would it do, to let Dimitri know about the boy Claude consciously decided not to be, when he came to Fodlan?

It is pointless. Foolish.

He thinks about it, all the same.

After graduation, he decides. If he’s ever going to tell Dimitri about his past, unprompted, it needs to be the day they graduate. When they’re about to leave the monastery, not needing to see one another again (unless, by some miracle, Dimitri still wants to, after). That way he’ll have an out if he needs it, an excuse to get away. 

If Dimitri meets him - meets Khalid - with the same scorn that everyone else has… well, at least Claude won’t have to see it for long. 

—

But life, as always, has other plans. 

The world starts falling apart around his ears in Lone Moon. The very same month he was planning to finally tell Dimitri this secret that’s hovered over his life for the past three years. 

War is at Garreg Mach's doorstep. The Empire will be invading them any day, as Edelgard goes on... whatever crusade it is she's going on, Rhea hasn't exactly made it clear what prompted the Empire's declaration of war on the Church, no matter how many times Claude tries to cajole information from her. Overnight, the monastery has turned into a massive military hub as the Church prepares to meet the Empire with force, the first battle of what will hopefully be a short war. But Claude...

Claude doesn't want to be here. He doesn't much care for Rhea and the Church, but also doesn't understand Edelgard's grievances well enough to know if she's justified or not. No one is explaining what's going on; they've only told him to be ready to fight.

To be ready to die. 

Claude refuses to die here, eighteen years old and never having made anything of himself. But at the same time... he's frightened. Knowing everything could slip away from him without ever knowing why...

This is what keeps him in the training grounds. Late... far later than he should have been out. The sun already gone as Claude tries to train himself to shoot in the dark, wanting to be ready for anything. 

But he is not ready for Dimitri suddenly appearing at his shoulder. 

"Shit," Claude swears, and grapples with his bow before he laughs. "You need to make a noise or something, Your Princeliness. I didn't expect you to show up like that."

Dimitri says nothing, looking absolutely haggard. In the dim light from torches and the moon overhead, Claude can see the circles under his eyes, the way his gaze seems to go right through Dimitri. 

"Claude," he says, and it's a low rasp. "I have to tell you a secret."

For once, Claude isn't in the mood for their little game.

"That can wait." He puts down his weapon, leaning the bow against a pillar before coming to stand before Dimitri once again. "Actually, I've been... hoping to see you. You haven't been around too much lately."

Dimitri grunts, uncharacteristically gruff. "I've been training. Praying, when I'm not."

That would explain it; Claude is almost never in the cathedral, himself, so he wouldn't have noticed. Still, he wouldn't have pegged Dimitri as the religious type. "Getting ready for the battle, huh," he continues, and shifts his weight onto the balls of his feet. "Me, too. I hate thinking about it. Having to fight for... this place. Rhea, throwing kids in front of Empire soldiers so she gets to live another day..."

"I didn't realize you felt so strongly."

Claude shrugs, feeling helpless. A little boy up against terrible odds, once again. 

"If the other Deer weren't here, relying on me," he says slowly, "I think I would have run by now." Typical Claude and his strategic retreats. Still cowardly after all this time. "Don't tell anyone," he says, flushing with shame. "I'm not about to leave now. But a few weeks ago, when Edelgard fled... it was tempting to run like hell in the opposite direction."

Dimitri's brow furrows further, as though trying to make sense of Claude's words. Claude flushes, wondering if it's too late to take it all back, but--

"You..." Dimitri leans in closer to him. "That was a secret. You told me a secret."

Claude stops, then laughs, utterly humorless. "I guess I did," he admits, putting on a smile that he doesn't feel. "Think you can keep it?"

Dimitri doesn't respond for a long moment, instead reaching out to brush his fingertips along Claude's jaw. 

"You have already kept so many of mine." His voice is low, eyes an intense blue as they seek out Claude's. "It is the least I can do to keep one of yours."

Claude swallows at that, at Dimitri's... honorableness. At the way he can feel his fingers move against his throat as it bobs. Claude can feel his face get hot, in spite of himself. 

He is not stupid. He knows at some point, his interest in Dimitri evolved beyond mere curiosity about him and turned into some sort of crush. He knows, just as well, that it would be completely foolish to act on his crush, that he would be blamed for seducing away another nation's prince. Hated by his classmates for his selfishness. Hated, maybe, even by Dimitri himself. 

But right now, alone in the dark, with both of them possibly about to die...

"Can I..." Claude licks his lips. "Can I tell you another?" Dimitri's eyes do not light up like he'd thought they might, but he looks curious, all the same. "I... come here."

Losing his nerve to find the words, he simply takes Dimitri by the back of the neck, pulling him in to kiss him. It starts off gentle, uncertain on his part, not sure how Dimitri will react, and if he hates it - hates Claude for doing this to him - well, at least they'll never have to see each other again. 

But to his shock, that's when Dimitri starts kissing him back.

It's graceless, awkward, not the finesse Claude might have expected from this noble prince... but Claude had never wanted that archetypal noble prince, anyway. Only Dimitri, who hates noble garb, who would eat a burnt tart just to save the chef's feelings, who snaps training lances in half whenever he's startled. Who gives and gives of himself without ever expecting things in return. 

How could Claude ever resist him?

The kiss sends Claude soaring out of his body, out toward the stars he loves so much. He makes a small, helpless noise against Dimitri's mouth, feeling the unskilled yet steady way Dimitri is kissing him. And they may die tomorrow, or a thousand tomorrows from now, and Claude will still consider this one of the highlights of his life, kissing another nation's prince under the shadows of the moon...

And then Dimitri stops. Pulls away, still holding Claude's shoulders as he gasps for breath. His face so, so red...

And his eyes distressingly empty as they look right through Claude. As though this hasn’t even touched him. 

Claude tries to ignore how his heart thuds down the stairs into his stomach. "Dimitri," he murmurs, trying to save face, "I... I didn't..."

"Allow me to tell you my secret now."

"Huh?" Claude blinks. "Um, sure... What is it?"

Dimitri leans in again, his body pressing against Claude's in ways he enjoys... But his lips find Claude's ear, not his mouth.

"Edelgard murdered my family." The words are rough, furious... perhaps a little deranged. "I finally learned the truth when she unmasked herself just last month. And so I will be returning the favor tomorrow, just as they ask."

In an instant, all the heat in Claude’s body fades, leaving him feeling very cold. There’s… a lot to unpack there, but the first word that reaches his lips is:

“They?”

“The voices of the dead.” Dimitri pulls back, and Claude catches a glimpse of his eyes— oh, those eyes. He’s never seen Dimitri look like this. So wild, unhinged, like an animal about to destroy its cage. “I will finally be able to answer their pleas tomorrow.”

Claude's heart continues pounding... but for a very different reason than only a few minutes prior. This… this is part of Dimitri he’s never known. Something never revealed to him in all their time together. 

"Dimitri," he repeats, trying to reach out to him. "I didn't... I don't..."

But it is too late. Dimitri is already walking away, already stalking back into the shadows of the practice grounds, away from Claude. Toward some vengeance Claude can hardly even imagine. 

He should go after him. Say something. Try to understand him better, to process this new side of Dimitri that’s making itself shown to him. He should at least probably try to dissuade Dimitri from what he’s about to do. 

But in the end, Claude is a coward, as he always is, and instead quietly makes his way to bed. 

\--

Claude does not die the next day.

Dimitri, on the other hand, does not live to see the end of the year. He is executed six months later, reportedly in the dungeon beneath his own palace.

And Edelgard lives, and kills, and so the Fodlan civil war rages on.


End file.
